


The Ceremony

by Abydosorphan



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-01-11
Updated: 2000-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-06 04:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abydosorphan/pseuds/Abydosorphan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little something I had to write for a class in college in the traditional Celtic style.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ceremony

In the sacred grove of the Celts, in the far reaches of Ireland, the land is bathed by the wonderfully enchanting glow of a fire. The three fives of members stand in a circle, their chants echoing up throughout the woods becoming one with the voices of the earth.

The wind.  
The trees.  
The animals.  
The rivers.  
The leaves.  
The mountains.  
The voices.  
They all echoed the same song.

The boy and girl moved together in the center of the circle of elders, the glow of the fire reflecting off of their pasty white skin. To them there was nothing else in existence. There was no circle of elders around them.

There were no trees.  
No wind.  
No animals.  
No rivers.  
No leaves.  
No mountains.  
No earth.  
No sound.

There was only each other. Each other and the knowledge of what had to be done.

Far off in the center of what is Eire the people of the clan are battling a force of invaders. Battling the invaders and losing. Aid had been sent, but everyone knew that it was too little. Too little too late, and that was only if the three fifties of fighters arrived in time. It was not enough. Something more had to be done. If only to postpone what seemed to be the inevitable. Something had to be done.

The two came together. Swords clashed against shield as the fighting erupted and the three fifties of clansmen attacked the three fifties of invaders.

Body touched body.  
Skin to skin.  
Sweat to sweat.  
Everything moved.

The earth swelled and swayed beneath them. It enveloped them, caressed them. As they caressed each other.

They merged.  
They became one.  
Blood flowed across the earth.  
Becoming one with the earth.  
The trees.  
The mountains.  
The rivers.  
The leaves.  
The animals.  
The sounds.  
The tastes.  
The smells.  
The voices.

All surrounded, enveloped, and caressed them. The energy swelled to the verge of explosion and joined them completely. Melding them so that one could not tell where one ended and the other began.

The struggle for control wages on.

The battle is fierce and glorious with warrior thrusting spear or sword or axe or staff deep within the flesh of his counterpart.

The heat and energy of the fight finally erupted to the point of explosion and the earth cried out.

The trees, the leaves, the mountains, the rivers, the oceans, the animals, the wind, the elders, the boy and the girl. All cried out as the energy rippled through them shaking the very essence of their being.

The cried ceased.

The earth, the leaves, the mountains, the rivers, the oceans, the animals, the wind, the elders, the boy and the girl.

All were silent.  
The battle was over.  
The struggle for control had been completed.  
All was quiet.  
The clansmen looked at the field and marveled at their prowess with their weapons.

In the sacred grove of the Celts the circle of elders separated and moved away. Their duty was done. The battle was over. The clan would live to meet the aid that had been sent.

The boy and the girl had fulfilled their duty.


End file.
